The Bounty Hunter
by Storyguy567
Summary: (AU. All Human) Set in 1878, Klaus Mikaelson is a bounty hunter during the days of the Old West. While pursuing a bounty, he meets Caroline Forbes; a young spitfire of a girl. Is it love blooming in the West? Klaroline. Rated for violence. Please review.
1. Sunset Town

**SwordPlease review. I am a review addict. If you review, I'll keep updating. If you don't, this story becomes lost in the wind.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but plot.**

**P.S. All towns and locations are fictional**

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_**The Bounty Hunter**_

**Sunset Town**

_(1878- 13 years after the American Civil War)_

Two horses road side by side into Sunset Town, a quiet dusty town a couple miles from the railroad. Occasionally, a carriage would pull into town or leave it. Mostly though, Sunset Town was a place for travelers to rest before they continued on their way. It was almost in the middle of nowhere except for the town of Yellow Creek just six miles north where the train stopped.

Back to the subject at hand; the men riding on horseback into town. These horses were fine mustang stallions. The first one, on the left, was a beautiful red bay color with a long ebony mane and tail. The one on the right was a light yellowish ruckskin color also with a black mane and tail.

The men riding them were quite an interesting pair. On the left, riding the bay colored horse was a tall man in a long dark brown duster jacket. His jacket was unbuttoned to show the black, clean looking vest under it; he also whore blue denim jeans and black riding boots with spurs on them. On his black belt, he had a holster on each of his hips; each holster held a Colt .45 six-shot revolver pistol. Both of which were black with deep red rosewood handles. A black leather strap kept a Winchester repeating rifle slung across his back. His black "cowboy" hat was worn low over his face, and his head was lowered, hiding his identity from view.

His parter, on the ruckskin mustang was of African American decent. He had a yellow straw "cowboy" hate. He had a young face; appearing somewhere between twenty and thirty years of age. His face was adorned with light stubble, and he had brown eyes. This man wore a tan buckskin jacket with a long fringe on the pockets, the shape of the shoulder, the lengths of the pockets, and the vent (or bottom) of the jacket. He also had on tan corduroy pants and brown riding boots. Over his pants and boots, he had dark leather batwing chaps with a fringe going along the back. A thin robe was tied across his front to a Spencer Repeating Rifle on his back.

The two men got questioning looks from the civilians. The black man even got hateful glares. They ignored the looks and rode through at a walking pace to the end of the town, where the sheriff's office was located.

The horses came to a halt in front of the sheriff's. The man in the duster got off his bay colored horse and hitched both of them to the post outside the sheriff's office.

"Hey!" A short, fat man with a dirty, black beard stumbled up to them, slurring with a southern. Obviously drunk, and reeking of liquor, he glared at the two. The white man moved his hat up and looked up, showing his face. He had grayish blue eyes and square set face, light with a stubbly shadow.

The drunken man pointed at the African American on the golden rucksin. "What is _HE_ doing on a horse?" He slurred out.

The white man walked forward. "What do you mean?" He asked in a deep voice laced with a British accent. "Travel on horseback is much faster than on foot."

"Don't give me none of that!" He got up in the taller British man's face. He jabbed his finger, pointing at the black man again. "Why is he on a horse?" He slurred again. "It's unnatural! He and his _kind_ should be in the dirt where they belong!"

The man sighed. It had been thirteen years since the American Civil War, and still this errant hatred remained. This refusal to accept another man just because his skin was a different color was sickening.

The drunkard started gasping and jumping in a panic. "Someone get him!" He drawled. "He has a gun! Get him before he thinks he's one of us! SOMEONE STOP THAT N-"

A gunshot into the air cut him off. All three men looked to see the sheriff. He was an older gentleman. He wore a black suit and pants. His jacket was open to show a red vest with a tie tucked under it. He had on a black bowler hat. His face was old and a thick gray handlebar mustache covered his lip. His tired eyes were a pale green. On the front breast pocket of his black jacket was a silver star. He was holding a smoking pistol in the air.

"That's enough Pete." The old sheriff lowered and holstered his weapon.

"But he has a gun!" He garbled in his drunken haze.

"He ain't causing anybody no harm. Leave him be."

Pete growled. "If you won't serve justice, I will!" He approached the black man. Despite his old age, the sheriff whipped out his pistol, pulled the hammer back and aimed it at the alcoholic. The fat man stopped.

"If you do that, I will arrest you for unlawful pursuit of justice and disturbing the peace. Now go home or back to the saloon."

Drunken Pete grumbled as he slumped back into town. The sheriff released the hammer of his weapon and holstered it. "Sorry about that." He apologized. "I'm marshal Martson." He extended his hand to the Brit.

The man took the sheriff's hand and shook it. "I'm Niklaus Mikaelson."

"Niklaus?" The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. "I ain't ever heard a name like that before."

"It's British." He explained. "If you'd prefer, you can call me Klaus."

He nodded. "Let's talk inside." The sheriff vanished into his office.

Klaus turned to his companion. "Marcel, watch the horses."

Klaus' African American companion Marcel nodded. "Yes sir." Klaus went into the building. Along the back wall was a row of five cells. In front of them was the Sheriff's desk, which he stood behind. On the side wall, between the desk and the cells was window looking out.

The Sheriff had taken off his bowler hat, revealing a head full of gray hair. Klaus did the same, taking off his hat. His hair was a sandy brown color.

"So," Sheriff Marston began, "what brings you to Sunset Town?" he asked, sitting down behind his desk.

Klaus took the seat in front of him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. "Well, I and my companion Marcel are looking for this man." He unfolded the paper; it was a wanted poster. On the front was a drawing of a gruff looking man with black hair and one eye. His face was covered in scars excepts for his beard.

It read at the bottom in large letters:

_**WANTED**_

_**One Eyed Willy**_

_**Wanted for murder**_

_**Alive: $100 Dead: $50**_

The sheriff examined the poster for several minutes. The look on his face became more and more grim. Finally, he looked up at the Brit.

"You're a bounty hunter, aren't you?"

He only nodded. "I've been hunting Willy for three days now. We, that is to say Marcel and I, believe he's joined up with one of the local gangs in this territory."

Marston stood up from his desk and looked out the window. "Come her son." He gestured over to his side. Klaus complied and walked to the window. He looked at what Marston was looking at.

"You see that?" The old sheriff asked pointing to rocky hill some distance away; at the top of it was a cluster of boulders. Klaus nodded and Marston went on. "We call that the Thief's Hill." He explained. "Usually, all manner of criminal coming through here go there and fortify themselves. The tall rocks and high vantage points make it impenetrable. They can stay up there as long as they have the supplies to last them."

"What does this have to do with my bounty?" Klaus asked, turning to man.

"Tracking him for three days you said?" The sheriff asked. At Klaus' nod, he went on. "A day and a half ago, he rode through town. There was six other riders with him. Apparently, they had managed to rob the passing train, which I had learned of too late. By the time I had a posse ready, they had already fortified themselves on Thief's Hill." He turned to the bounty hunter. "They're still there too. Every night we see their campfire."

Klaus nodded. "Do you know a place we can stay?" He asked. "Particularly a place that won't mind Marcel's presence?"

Pulling away from the window, sheriff Marston shook his head. "Well most places share the opinion of Drunken Pete who had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting." He suddenly looked up, getting an idea. "However, my wife and I have no problem with it." He leaned in and whispered. "Between you and me, I fought for the Union in the Civil War, but why do you need a place to stay?" He asked.

"My tactic is simple." Klaus answered. "You said he robbed a train. After a successful job like that, he's going to want to celebrate with his gang. They're going to spend the night celebrating and drinking stolen whiskey." He turned to the sheriff. "I spent hours studying him trying to find a weakness, and his celebrating is it. Me and Marcel will get him in the morning, at the break of dawn, when he's too tired and drunk to defend himself."

"That's a good idea." Said Marston. "If you kill him, bring me proof that he's dead. We don't need an entire corpse. But, if you bring him here alive I'll have a nice cell waiting for him. Either way, I can pay off your bounty and notify the marshals."

"It's a deal." Klaus said, shaking Marston's hand.

The two were interrupted by a thud against the wall. "What the hell?" The sheriff exclaimed. He put on his bowler hat and ran outside.

Klaus knew all too well what it was. He sighed. "Shit!" He cursed under his breath. "Dammit Marcel!" He cursed again and ran outside.

Apparently, Drunken Pete had rounded up some of his friends, four to be exact. Judging from what Klaus was seeing, Pete and his friends sneaked up behind Marcel, pulled him off his horse, took his gun away and began beating him. They were all cheering and shouting joyously as Marcel was pummeled into the ground. One of Pete's bastard friends was holding the rifle, aiming it at the black man.

"PETE!" The Sheriff shouted. "What did I say?"

"I don't care!" Pete said, surprisingly clearly. "He pulled his gun on me! I'm acting on my rights in defending myself." He delivered a hard kick into Marcel's stomach.

"Actually," Klaus interrupted, "Marcel is trained to be my bodyguard. He wouldn't attack unless provoked. And if he was provoked, I'm sure he could handle a bunch of drunkards like you."

And like that, the beating stopped. All eyes were on Klaus. Pete walked forward. "You saying I can't beat trash? Is that it "Guh-ven-or"?" He asked, whilst mocking Klaus' accent.

He shook his head. "What I'm saying is that you're too drunk to actually fight. You took advantage of a situation and continued by kicking a man when he's down. In a fair fight, you would have lost."

"I WOULD NOT!" He fumed. "I could beat him, and do you know why? Because all he is, is a Piece of shit!" He shouted, breathing reeking alcohol breath into Klaus' face.

That was the last straw. Klaus he enough of this hateful bigot. Without warning, BAM! His fist swung right across Drunken Pete's face. The man fell to the ground, hitting it hard.

"Get that slave lover!" One of them shouted. The four men abandoned Marcel and went for Klaus. The first one came with his fist raised. The Brit delivered a swift punch to the gut. Despite his huge stature, the man went down.

Two more came at him from either side. Klaus grabbed their heads and slammed them together. They fell on top of one another.

The last one, holding Marcel's rifle, tried to run. However, Klaus grabbed the rife and brought the butt of it up, slamming it into the thug's chin. With the goon distracted by his pain, Klaus wrenched the rifle free and slammed the butt into his face.

Ignoring the pained groans of those around him, Klaus went to his downed comrade. "Are you alright?" He asked, pulling him up.

Marcel grunted in pain, one arm clutching his stomach. "I'll be fine." He breathed out. "I've been through worse." He chuckled. Klaus gave him his Spencer Rifle, which Marcel slung around his back with the rope.

Behind them, Pete had managed to rise to his feet. Now sporting a bloody nose, and boiling with drunken anger, he reached for the gun on his belt.

"I won't lose to the likes of trash!" They heard a drunken slur behind them.

What happened next happened so fast, it could almost be missed. But for Klaus, it felt as if everything slowed down.

Klaus heard the clicking of a hammer, and he went into action. He grabbed one of the revolver's on his belt. Pulling the hammer back, he spun around to see Pete with his weapon raise. Getting his aim, Klaus pulled the gun out of its holster, brought it up and fired.

Pete screamed bloody murder as his gun dropped from his hand. He held up his shooting hand to see what had happened. When he saw, he screamed even louder, as if seeing the damage made it more painful.

Before he could pull the trigger, Klaus shot off his pointer finger. Now, there was only a bloody half finger. To add insult to injury, it was of course Pete's shooting hand and trigger finger.

"Well I'll be damned!" The sheriff said astonished. "That was some bully shot." He turned to Klaus. "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

This wasn't the first time he had been asked that. He gave the answer he always gave. "My mother said I was born to pull a trigger."

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Pete shouted on his knees, clutching his wounded hand. "YOU SHOT MY GOOD HAND!"

"Damn!" The sheriff said again. "Well, maybe now Pete will learn to watch his mouth. Come on now, my wife's probably started supper by now." He got on his white horse.

Ignoring Drunken Pete's blubbering cries, Klaus helped the injured Marcel onto his horse.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked again.

"I'm fine Nik." He grinned. Klaus only let those close to him call him Nik. And Marcel was his closest friend, practically family. "Besides, I've been through worse."

Klaus nodded as he got on his horse. "Good news," he said, "Willy is here. The Sheriff is providing us with a room for the night, and we're going after him in the morning."

Marcel nodded. "Then what?"

"Then," Klaus thought about, "I suppose we go into Yellow Creek and see if there are any new bounties."

Klaus kicked his horse to follow the Marston who had gotten some pace ahead; Marcel kicked his horse to follow Klaus.

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**Just so you all know, Caroline will appear later in the story. Don't worry.**

**The other topic I wanted to discuss was the racism. I'm not a racist, in fact there's nothing I despise more than racism. However, it was a big part of this time period. And then there is "the word." You know the one I'm talking about. I absolutely refuse to write or say that word!**

**First chapter. What did you think? Once again, REVIEW!**


	2. Hunting the Bounty

**You all thought I was kidding. HA! I'm not. I WAS SERIOUS! The first one is free. But if you want to see this story continues, YOU HAVE TO REVIEW!**

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**Please review. I am a review addict. If you review, I'll keep updating. If you don't, this story becomes lost in the wind.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but plot and the OCs.**

**P.S. All towns and locations are fictional (except Mystic Falls) so I own those.**

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_**The Bounty Hunter**_

**Hunting the Bounty**

Klaus and Marcel followed Sheriff Marston a little ways out of town. They came upon a small hill with a quaint little white house on it. An elderly woman in a plain blue gown with a white apron over it stood on the porch, watching the arrival. She wore round spectacles over her aging brown eyes, and her silver hair was tied into a bun.

Marston slowed his horse down to a trot. He held his hand up and his two traveling companions, who stopped. Marston rode forward.

"Hello Beth." The Sheriff climbed off his horse and embraced his wife.

"Who was your day Alec?" She asked her husband.

"Kinda interesting." He said. "I think we finally managed to knock Drunken Pete down a notch."

"Oh that man." Beth Marston sighed. She looked behind him to see Klaus and Marcel. "I see you have company. Care to introduce me?"

Alec Marston nodded. "This is Klaus Mikaelson and Marcel." He introduced. "They're here to get rid of our little bandit problem. They need a place to stay for the night."

"Well I'm making a stew from the turkeys." Beth said. "I also have biscuits so I can feed them both." She smiled warmly. "However, we only have one guest bedroom, so I can only accommodate one of you."

Marcel got off his horse, and Klaus took the reins to control him. Marcel took off his hat, revealing his cut short black hair.

"If it's no trouble ma'am," Marcel began, "I can sleep in a stable if you have one."

Beth shook her head. "I can't do that." She frowned. "It isn't right to treat a man like that."

"I'm not saying it is." Marcel agreed. "But I've been treated like that for most of my life. It's something I'm used to."

Alec intervened. "We have a barn Marcel." He pointed out. "It might be a little more accommodating."

"Whatever you have sir." Marcel said.

"Well," Beth changed the subject, "come in you two and put your feet up a spell. Alec will put your horses in the barn and I'll get you boys something to drink."

Klaus got of his horse and led them too Alec. He guided the horses around to the back of the house. Klaus took off his hat, and he and Marcel went into the house.

* * *

"So you two are bounty hunters?" Beth asked as she set a large pot of stew down onto the table. "That's so interesting."

The sun had gone down, and night now covered the world. The Marstons had lit candles and lamps throughout their home.

Beth scooped large amounts of the thick meaty stew into a ladle and poured it into bowls. She placed two biscuits on the brim of each bowl and distributed them to the table before she took her seat.

"It's not as interesting as the papers would make you believe." Klaus chuckled.

Alec said grace and the group began eating. "So Mr. Mikaelson," the sheriff began, "what is your plan once you collect the bounty on Willy?"

"My brother, Elijah, came here a couple years before I did." He said. "Last I heard, he enlisted in the service to become a US Marshal. The last letter I got said he's living in Mystic Falls."

"Oh," Beth sighed, "I grew up there. It's a sweet little town."

"My brother says that all the time in his letters. Only he's more descriptive." He chuckled. "Anyway," he got back on track, "my plan is to visit him for a time before I continue collecting bounties."

"Hmm," Alec thought for a minute, "I heard there was some bounties to be collected in Mystic Falls."

The four continued to talk and eat well into the night. The old grandfather clock in the corner struck nine.

"Well," Alec sat up, "I'm gonna turn in for the night. Come on Marcel," he gestured, "I'll show you to the barn."

Marcel stood up and followed Alec out of the house.

Beth began collecting the dishes. "Do you boys need anything tomorrow?"

Klaus sat back in his chair. "I wouldn't want to bother you. Me and Marcel are leaving before dawn."

"It's no bother." The old woman smiled. "I have to get up before dawn to get the water."

Alec and Marcel both came in. "The barn is ready for you."

"Thank you sir." Marcel shook his hand.

"I'll see you gents tomorrow." He gave his wife a quick kiss before he went to bed."

"I have some blankets for you to take with you."

"Much obliged ma'am." Marcel smiled.

"Just let me show Klaus the guest room first." She moved down the hall before gesturing to the Brit before she continued.

"One second Ms." He delayed. "Marcel," he turned to his friend. "I want you to take my duster out there with you tonight."

He nodded. "OK Nik."

With that Klaus went to his room. Beth lit a lamp for him on the desk by the bedside.

"It's not much." She apologized.

"On the contrary, it's perfect." Klaus smiled.

Beth's face lit up. "Well you get some shut-eye, and I'm gonna take your friend those blankets."

"Thank you ma'am." Klaus smiled. "For everything."

"It's no trouble. Really." And the old woman scurried down the hall.

Klaus blew out the lamp and turned in for the night.

* * *

There was no sun out when Klaus got up that morning. He lit a lantern, filling his room with artificial light. He got dressed, and armed himself. Grabbing the lantern, he walked quietly through the house, careful not to wake his gracious hosts.

He made his way out of the house. Walking around behind it, he went into the barn. There was a lantern lit inside it. Klaus looked in to see Marcel getting ready, closing his buckskin jacket.

"Are you ready?" Klaus asked; he picked up his duster coat and put it on, then strapping the Winchester rifle to his back. Marcel nodded and slung his Spencer Rifle across his back. The two opened the barn doors and led their horses out. Klaus extinguished the lanterns and kept them in the barn for Bath.

It was getting closer to sunrise. Everything was bathed in that pale blue light before the first rays of the morning come. Klaus led Marcel back into town and then to the sheriff's office. Klaus led his steed to the side of the building. From there, he kicked off, sending his horse into a run. Both men sped across the desert landscape, trampling bushes and plants in their wake as they headed toward Thief's Hill.

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Klaus pulled the reins, slowing his horse down to a stop about a quarter of the way from the hill. Marcel rode up to his side. "What is it?" He asked.

"We go the rest of the way on foot." Klaus dismounted his horse. "The horses would be too loud. Marcel nodded and jumped off his horse. Klaus hid them behind one of the boulders before he and Marcel approached the hill.

By now, a ray of sunlight had begun to shine over the landscape. Klaus and Marcel ran behind one of the large boulders on Thief's Hill. Klaus pulled out both of his revolvers, one in each hand. Marcel drew his rifle from his back.

They looked between the rocks to survey the situation. There were seven bodies. The loud snores let the two bounty hunters know they were alive. In the middle of the group sat the smoldering remains of a fire pit.

At the far end, Klaus saw their man; One Eyed Willy. His wanted poster did him justice (no pun intended). He was an ugly man. In the early rays of the sun, Klaus could see his one left eye and his empty scarred socket. He didn't even wear a patch. Greasy black hair covered his head and a thick greasy black beard covered most of his face. The visible flesh of his face was scarred and marred. His back was up against a rock.

The bounty hunters ducked down on their knees behind the tall boulder.

"What's the plan Nik?" Marcel asked.

Klaus thought for several moments. "That depends." He finally whispered. "Do we want him alive or dead? Because the state we deliver him in will affect what plan we use."

"How about alive?" Marcel asked, keeping his voice low.

"Then we sneak in there, hogtie him while he's still asleep, and get him out of there."

"Sounds easy enough."

"It actually isn't." Klaus sighed.

"How so?" Marcel raised an eyebrow.

"His gang." Was Klaus' answer. "We don't know if they'll come after him or not. If they do, we could be putting Marston and all of Sunset Town in danger." He frowned.

Marcel went silent. This time he came up with the idea. "Marston said they robbed a train right?" At Klaus's nod, he continued. "Then let's take the loot too. Then, while you deliver Willy and the stolen loot, I'll make it look like he ran off with it."

"That's a good idea." Klaus admitted. He reached into his coat and pulled out a rope. "I'll get Willy. You get the horses ready."

Marcel nodded and ran back to the horses. With the rope held tightly in his hands, Klaus stepped between the two boulders and into the circle of Thief's Hill. Klaus carefully weaved through the sleeping bandits. Every time one of them moved, he froze; placing a hand on his gun, he made sure they were asleep before he continued. He had somehow made it to Willy. He noticed that the one eyed bounty slept close to large sacks of money. That was easy. Now, he didn't have to find the money from the train robbery.

The first thing Klaus took care of was the money. He picked up each bag two at a time, and set them outside of the rock circle. He did this until all but one bag was left.

Next was Willy. Klaus would have to be much more careful. One wrong move and he could wake up. Although it seemed unlikely because he was extremely drunk…Klaus could tell by the smell. He slowly got down to his knees. He hogtied One Eyed Willy, careful not to make the knots too tight to wake him up from the pain, and yet not so loose that he could escape. He even tied a gag around his mouth to prevent him from calling for help.

Next, Klaus carefully lifted the unconscious body over his shoulder. He moaned and grumbled before going quiet again. Klaus, with some difficulty slipped between the boulders with his prize hanging low over his shoulder. Upon getting out of the circle, he saw Marcel ride up with his horse in tow.

Quickly, Klaus laid Willy down on the back of his horse. He then tied the money bags to his saddle. Once he finished, he mounted.

"Okay," Klaus said, "I'll head for the sheriff's, you create a false trail."

"Got it." Marcel said. "I make it look like he went to Yellow Creek. From there, it will appear as if he rode the train."

"Good idea. I'll see you back in town when you're done."

The two men kick off their horses and rode off in different directions.

* * *

The sun had finally risen. It was still early in the morning, but at least there was light out.

Sheriff Alec Marston sat down behind his desk that morning. The old man rolled up a cigarette and lit it. So he sat there, smoking as he waited for something to happen.

The front door burst open and the sheriff looked up. Klaus walked in, a bound and gagged man over his shoulder. The man's shouts were muffled by the gag around his mouth. Klaus half set, half dropped the man on the ground at the Sheriff's feat. It was One Eyed Willy.

"Well I'll be a son of a bitch!" The sheriff spoke astonished as he rose to his feet. "You actually caught him."

"Did you doubt me?" Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"I had a minute of doubt." He puffed on his cigarette.

One Eyed Willy kicked on the ground. Ignoring him, Klaus continued. "I also got the money he stole from the train robbery. It's on my horse."

The two were interrupted by Marcel walking in. "I think they'll be thrown off the trail." He said. "I made it look like he was going to the train tracks."

"Marcel, could you bring in the money please?" Klaus asked.

"Sure thing." He walked out. After a minute, he came back in with all the large bags of money. One Eyed Willy, still gagged on the floor started bouncing. "Hmph! MM! Mmmm! Mmf!" All three heads turned to him.

"Let's get him in a cell." Alec said. Marcel was on it the quickest. Picking the dirty one eyed man, He put him in one of the cells. Marston then closed the cell and locked it. He then pulled out a knife and cut the ropes off his hands. Something everyone regretted. He pulled the blindfold off and began yelling.

"Let's take this outside." The sheriff said and left the building with the two men behind him. The yelling got louder and louder.

"Here you go." He said pulling money out of his pocket. "One hundred dollars captured alive." He gave the money to Klaus. "I'll notify the marshalls." He reached into another pocket and pulled out two rectangular slips of paper. "And these are for you boys." He handed them to Marcel. "Mystic Falls is a long ways away, so the missus and I decided to buy you boys some train tickets."

"Well thank you sir." Klaus tipped his hat.

"That train leaves at one today." He said. "Stop by the house, and my wife will give you some supplies for your trip."

"Thank you for your generosity." Klaus said. "But it's too much."

"Nonesense." The Sheriff chuckled. "It's more than enough. You saved this town from a potential bandit problem before it even happened. Me, as well as the citizens of this town are grateful." He smiled. "They just don't know it."

Both men shook his hand before he went into the Sheriff's Office again.

Klaus took out the hundred dollars and gave it to Marcel. "Thanks Nik." He took the money in his pocket.

The bounty hunters got on their horses. "Let's get those supplies." Nik said. "We have a train to catch."

Klaus and Marcel were bound for Mystic Falls.

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**Chapter 3 introduced Caroline. Worry not.**

**What did you think? Once again, REVIEW!**


	3. Mystic Falls

**If you want to see this story continued, YOU HAVE TO REVIEW! I AM A REVIEW ADDICT! No reviews=no updates  
**

**Please review. I am a review addict. If you review, I'll keep updating. If you don't, this story becomes lost in the wind.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but plot and the OCs.**

* * *

_**The Bounty Hunter**_

**Mystic Falls**

Klaus and Marcel got seats in the caboose of the train, which was now well on its way to Mystic Falls, Virginia. Klaus noticed his friend was becoming increasingly more rigid.

"Is something wrong Marcel?" Klaus asked his friend, concerned.

"I'm fine Nik." He answered. "It's just my nerves." He sighed. "I haven't been to Virginia in years, and with good reason."

"What is that?" Klaus leaned back against his seat.

"I was born there." He said. "It's where I spent my childhood." He looked down. He was reliving his childhood as a slave.

"Marcel, if you want to stop-"

"No, it's good to talk about it." He said. "It's just that Virginia sided with the Confederacy during the war, so attitudes toward me aren't going to be welcome."

"Marcel, you're one of my best friends." Klaus said firmly. "Whatever you're facing, I'm going to be there facing it with you."

"The brings me great comfort." He smiled.

Klaus continued. "Just because a state officially sided with the Confederacy, doesn't mean its entire population did. There are probably some who didn't."

* * *

Caroline Forbes walked into the Mystic Falls Saloon. The young woman wore a two-piece Lucille Walking Suit of a dark navy blue with a black lace fringe. Her hands were covered with black lace gloves with a ruffle on the wrists. In her right hand was a matching blue fan, which she waved to cool herself on this humid summer day.

She was a beautiful young woman of twenty-six years with dark forest green eyes. Her blonde locks her styled up into a tight bun behind her head which was tucked under a black hat.

Upon her entry, she was greeted by a raucous cheer from everyone in the saloon. She gave a dainty wave before she walked upstairs.

She vanished behind the door into one of the rooms. Once in the sanctity of her room, Caroline unbuttoned the jacket, revealing a black and red corset that hugged her body tightly and exposed her shoulders; she slipped the skirt off of her, revealing the thin, lace, black skirt she wore. The fabric was visible enough to only show the outline of her long legs.

She took off her hat and undid her bun, letting her blonde hair fall down. She set her clothes, hat, and fan neatly in her dresser before she sat down on the bad.

Caroline was the madam of the finest brothel in Mystic Falls and all of Virginia. It would be a couple hours before the brothel opened…being that she only opened it at night. However, she had to please her gentleman callers. And the rooms above a noisy saloon were the perfect place.

So she sat on the bed, stretching her legs out as she waited for the first man to come.

* * *

Klaus walked off the train, Marcel following right behind him. They walked out of the train station and into Mystic Falls.

"So, where do we find your brother?" Marcel asked.

"He's a marshal, so my first guess would be the Sheriff's office." He theorized.

Marcel nodded and the two made their way through town. Many of the townspeople stopped to give nasty glares to Marcel. Unconsciously, he stepped closer to Nik.

The sheriff's office was wedged between a general store and a bank. Klaus walked in, Marcel following behind him.

Inside, one man sat at the desk. He was a tall man in his early thirties at least. He had dark brown hair which was cut short. His eyes were a dark blue and his face was adorned with rough stubble.

He wore a black vest with a gold star on his right breast. Beneath the vest was a white button up shirt. He wore black corduroy pants which vanished past his knees where black boots were seen. On his belt was a holster which housed a LeMat revolver.

"Can I help you?" The man asked, standing up.

"Are you the sheriff?" Klaus asked as he removed his hat. Behind him, Marcel removed his own hat as well.

He nodded. "Yes. I'm Alaric Saltzman. How can I help you?"

"Well my name is Niklaus Mikaelson." He stepped to the side and gestured to his friend. "This is Marcel. I'm looking for my brother. Last I heard from him, he was a U.S. Marshal and living here."

Alaric nodded. "Judging from your accent and surname, I'm assuming you're Elijah's brother."

Klaus nodded in response.

"Well, he was correct." The sheriff confirmed. "He lives here. He's out right now, making his rounds. He should be back soon though. You and your companion can wait here until he comes back."

Klaus nodded and leaned against the wall. Despite his stone-faced façade, Marcel paced around nervously. Just being in southern territory unnerved him. His reputation as a bounty hunter and sniper meant nothing here. He was condemned because of the color of his skin.

"You seem nervous." Alaric spoke to the pacing Marcel.

He nodded. "I am. I haven't been this far south since before the war except for one other time, and that was one the way into Mexico to-"

"Marcel!" Klaus said firmly, cutting him off. "We swore we would never speak about Mexico."

He nodded. "Sorry Nik." He apologized. "It's just so unnerving to be back in Virgina."

"Well," Alaric joined in, "you have no need to fear. The people of Mystic Falls are…mostly friendly." He said with a grim shrug as he crossed his arms. "There are some people who are stuck in their ways. I can't do anything about that."

The galloping of a horse caused Alaric to look out the window. "Ah. He's back."

Elijah Mikaelson walked in through the door. He was seven years Klaus' senior and stood at the same height as his brother. However, unlike his brother, Elijah's skin was bronzed by the son and his hair was dark ebony in contrast to Klaus' sandy blond hair and pale skin. Also unlike Klaus, Elijah was clean shaven.

Elijah had on a light green vest with a darker forest green coat over it. He also wore beige pants with black shoes.

"Oh." Elijah said slightly shocked. "I didn't realize you were busy Alaric, forgive the interruption."

Alaric grinned. "I didn't realize you were expecting company."

Klaus turned around. "Hello brother." He greeted.

"Niklaus!" He smiled. The two brothers exchanged a handshake before pulling each other into a hug. "You made it!"

"Sorry." He said. "I was taking care of a job."

"That's right." The elder brother nodded. "My brother is a bounty hunter now." He noticed the third body in the room. "That must mean you're Marcel."

He nodded. "After hearing your brother's stories, I finally get to meet the great Elijah." He smiled and shook the man's hand.

"So how long do you plan to stay?" Alaric moved the conversation along.

Klaus answered. "Well I came to visit my brother, so either as long as he'll have me or until word of another bounty comes up."

Elijah chuckled. "Well come on then." He said. "I'll show you around town and to my house."

* * *

After the last man left, Caroline decided it was time. Using the tub in her room, Caroline cleaned the essence of her three callers from the day off of her. Once clean, she redressed herself. Looking out the window, she saw the sun was setting and she knew it would be time to open up the brothel.

She ascended the steps of the saloon, greeting the friendly patrons as she left. Outside, she made her way through town. Looking up, she saw Marshal Elijah ride through the streets. With him were two people she had never seen before. The white man in the duster coat, she noticed look extremely masculine and very attractive. They rode by, without sparing a glance at Caroline.

She hoped he would show up tonight and get to meet the handsome stranger.

* * *

Elijah led Klaus and Marcel through town, pointing out every building and landmark. Klaus turned around to check on Marcel. He was getting hateful glares, but that seemed to be all he was getting. He pulled his horse back so that he was riding alongside with Marcel.

"How are you holding up?" He asked.

"I'm doing fine Nik." He said. "No one seems to be giving me more than a glare. You don't need to worry, I'll be fine."

He nodded. Klaus saw Marcel more as a brother than a friend. It was natural for him to be worried.

"I've been thinking," Marcel said, causing Klaus to look at him, "this town is close to the plantation where I grew up."

Klaus nodded. "Weren't you sold when you were fifteen?"

He nodded. "But I was born and raised here before I was sold. However, I don't know what happened after I left."

"What's on your mind?" Klaus asked.

"While we're here, I'm going to see what I can find out about the plantation." Marcel told Klaus his plans. "I need to find out what happened to Bonnie."

Klaus nodded. "I understand. You've seen how important family is to me. You do what you have to."

"Thanks Nik." Marcel smiled. "I…I just hope it isn't too late." He worried.

"Don't worry." Nik comforted him. "You'll find your sister."

* * *

**Yes I made Marcel and Bonnie siblings in this story.**

**This chapter was shorter than I originally thought it was gonna be. It's mostly a transition chapter. Given that this is a Western story, I wanted to make Caroline a strong woman, not just the damsel type character she always is. I thought the best way to do that was by making her the madame of a whorehouse.**

**And don't worry. She'll become more and more prominent within the story as she meets Klaus.**


End file.
